Jules Grills Sinead

“So, that was something,” Jules said as Sinead re-entered her apartment.

Sinead could feel herself flushing in a panic that Jules had seen what she’d allowed Marc to do out in the corridor, but that was impossible. She tried to keep a straight face, just raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Jules asked, gesturing to the table where they had just finished dinner. “Marc Fornier, person-of-interest in your case and now my case, was here for dinner in your apartment.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sinead said. Jules had moved over to the couch, and Sinead flopped down onto the other end and let out a big sigh. “We explained it to you.”

“You explained some of it to me,” Jules said. “I get the feeling that you were holding some shit back. And the fact that I’m getting that from you but not him either means he’s a better liar than you, or he doesn’t know you’re crushing on him.”

“I am not,” Sinead said, maybe too loud. She softened her voice. “I’m not,” she repeated herself. “He’s an asset. A volunteer. There’s no quid pro quo going on, he’s not getting paid.”

“After the whole ‘dinner under cover’ it sounds more like he’s paying you,” Jules said and pursed her lips.

“Oh, fuck off,” Sinead sighed, thankful that Marc hadn’t mentioned the makeover. Or the dress and jewellery. That would look bad. “What about you? You were flirting like crazy with him.”

“Well, he is charming,” Jules said with a little smirk. “And hot in that, ‘Sexy friend of my older brother’ kind of way. Like he’s out of reach, but also right there. You’ve seriously not fucked him?”

“No!” Sinead said. “Jesus fuck, Jules. No sex. Not even a handy.” It wasn’t a lie, since that first time had been a blowjob. “I’m not seeing him, I’m not dating him. Yeah, he’s attractive, and yeah, he’s charming. If you want to go after him, you can.”

“Well, I can’t exactly do that while he’s an official person of interest,” Jules sighed. “I’ll do what I can, but you should let him know I’ll probably need him to come down to the station to chat again so we can clear it up officially and no one else tries to go after him. How helpful was he, really?”

Sinead frowned and shrugged. “Enough that I’ll stick my neck out for him,” she said. “And I’m trying to keep him helpful, so don’t mess with him.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Jules promised, then smirked again. “At least not until he’s cleared. Then I might look to mess around with him a bit.”

“Do what you want,” Sinead said and hated the fact that she was angry she was saying it. Marc was still leveraging her in ways that were dangerous to her and the case if they came out, and she knew it was wrong. Knew that the way she was thinking with her pussy was the wrong move.

“Well, we’ll see,” Jules sighed.

They changed the subject, and the evening wore on, and Sinead felt like maybe the whole thing would blow over. Jules would clear Marc, and Marc would see that he had more eyes on him and would cool off on whatever he was doing. Things could normalise, and maybe he’d just be an asset, or maybe Sinead would ask him out. Do things properly.

Marc would probably be a good boyfriend, she thought to herself errantly while half-listening to Jules talk about some of the internal politics happening back in her old precinct. Then she shook her head, grimacing at herself just a little. What the fuck am I doing? He’s a fucking sexual predator, playing me along. How would that make a good boyfriend?

She realised she was playing absently with her necklace as she and Jules talked, and had to **** herself to stop by thinking of Marc's smarmy, know-it-all, better-than-you smile.

Fuck Marc, she thought to herself.

And then, when Jules had left for the night, and the kitchen was clean and the dishes were away and the lights were off in the apartment except for the washroom, Sinead took the buttplug out of her ass and cleaned it in the sink before setting it down on a towel on the counter to dry.

“Fuck, Marc,” Sinead sighed, looking at the little plug.

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